


Lightning Bug Faeries

by Seaki



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Neglect, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaki/pseuds/Seaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Believing the floating lights in his backyard to be fireflies, a young boy accidently traps a fairy in a mason jar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightning Bug Faeries

He was alone again – father was out doing some sort of business (Charles swore he would never understand it) and his Mother was off gossiping with the neighbors over tea or something. He did not really care to find out. His mother's laugh was like a hyena, and it was scary. 

Still, this meant young Charles was left to his own devices once again. Charles ran his hands through his hair gently, wincing as his tiny fingers snagged on the curly brown locks. He did not have any friends to speak of, and even if he had it was just too late. The sky was almost black and stars, he was sure, were already appearing in the sky. 

Yet, he did not want to stay in his room. It was so lonely in here… 

Young Charles gave a small sigh, looking up at the ceiling to his room – he could barely see it at all. He gave a small frown, lifting himself up to find a candle. He fumbled over the soft cotton of his night-shirt that he had discarded as soon as he woke before reaching his night stand. He squinted, finding a box of matches quickly. He had been allowed to light his own candles since he was six, he could stay proudly. An entire year had passed since then. 

The struck match made the entire room easier to see and the seven-year older lit his candle quickly with an almost practiced ease and shook out the flame on the match. He gave a soft grin, and picked up the half-melted candle and made his way out of his little room.

Charles paused just outside his father's study, listening. He was met with absolute silence – so his father had not returned yet. It did not surprise him very much. He moved along, stopping outside the parlor where his mother and her guests would be. He held his breath and moved along, wincing at the hyena like-giggle his mother made. Something about the neighbor and the milkman. He did not really understand it. 

The small boy finally met his destination with the kitchen, where the door to the back yard was. He thought it was a silly place to put a door, since he would have to disturb people on the way out back, but right now it was cold and almost dead. He frowned, setting the candle on the counter. He moved along to the door, trying to find the latch that held the door locked. 

It did not take long before the door swung open. He winced at the loud sound it made as it hit against the wall behind it. He held his breath, listening – he was not supposed to be outside this late. 

But no one came. He let out a soft sigh of relief before peering out the door. He was met with the most beautiful sight. The grass was aglow with soft yellow lights, blinking like the stars in the sky! He wondered if the gods above sent down the stars into the grass to brighten the world as much as they brightened the sky. 

But the lights were moving. He took a step out into the grass, scattering the small lights away from him. "H-hey wait!" he called to the lights. He remember a book saying something about lightning bugs. Was that what these were? He had never actually seen them, having supposed to be in bed by this time. He grinned again, previous worry about being found out gone from his mind. 

He turned and rushed back inside, sliding a chair over to a counter. Pulled himself up, looking for the clean mason jars. He knew that berry season was soon – perfect for making jam, so there just had to be jars laying about. He shifted through the cabinet quietly, pulling down the first jar he found. 

It was a large jar, slightly dusty from disuse. He gave a soft blow, stirring the dust from jar's surface. The small boy gave a grin. Now he needed a lid, he thought, as he hopped down from the chair. It took him three tries before he found the drawer with lids within it. There were so many! He did not know which was the one to his jar, so he shuffled through the noisy metal lids, picking out the few that looked as if they would fit. 

It took him a moment to find the right lid, especially with his jittery excitement to get outside and catch the small lights in the grass. He finally did find that lid. He frowned at the metallic disk – how would the fireflies breathe? He shuffled around, leaving the remaining lids on the counter. 

He moved across to the drawer with the knives and poked holes in the lid. He grinned at his work, placing the knife back where he found it – he was not supposed to touch the knives, after all. 

He gave a small hum of triumph, and made his way back to the door. The small child peered out the door, listening to the outside. He could hear crickets chirruping and a frog somewhere off in the taller grass. He listened hard for the sound of footsteps, but none were to be heard. 

Charles gave a small excited shiver, stepping finally out onto the grass with bare feet. He marveled in it for a moment – the grass was cold, it was odd. It was normally so warm from the sun, and even then he was supposed to have shoes on his feet. 

The young child ventured out into the grass, slow, with the jar and lid within his hands. He was chased after the lights, and they danced around him, avoiding his every attempt. Still, he giggled – it was fun after all. It did not matter to him if he managed to catch one or not, but it would be nice to, he thought to himself. 

The little boy moved among the grass, and the lights danced around him. They seemed to crowed around him, skipping just out of his reach. They were all sorts of colors! Blues, purples, pinks, and yellows danced around him, and he could almost hear soft giggles from the flickering lights about him. He paused just to look at them. 

The lightning bugs were confused, he guessed – when he normally tried to capture bugs, they would fly or crawl off before he could, but these bugs just hovered around him, as if paying him no mind. 

Charles gave another grin, walking along the slightly wet grass. The lights parted before him, leaving more than an arm's length between them. He knew he would never catch one of the pretty lightning bugs this way. So with a mischievous grin, though it looked practically innocent upon his face, he ran towards the multi-colored lights.

They scattered around him, zipping off in a frenzy of light in color, but he would not give up that easily. He ran and ran after the lights, running circles in the yard. He only paused to catch his breath briefly, before lunging to try again. The jar swung through the air, gripped in a small sweaty hand. 

He heard a small clink before he realized he had actually caught one of the bugs. He gave a bright grin and clapped the lid over the jar. He gave a cry of delight while screwing on the lid, and suddenly, his body grew tired and his muscles began to ache. He gave another look at the Lightning bug and started back towards the door. 

A wide yawn broke the silence around him. Only then did he realize his mother had already gone to sleep, so he had to be extra quiet. There was no need to wake that Vulture up. He moved quietly along the halls, the only sound coming from the soft tap of his bare feet and the clink of the bug against the jar as it tried to escape. 

Once he reached his room, he gave a small tired sigh of triumph. He set the jar on the table beside his bed and peeled himself of his sweaty clothes before changing into a new set of Pajamas. He almost could not stay awake through the process, but he finally reached his pillow. It seemed so much more welcoming than it had before he went outside. 

When he laid his head on the pillow, he stared at the Lightning Bug in the jar. He gave a happy smile – he would have to show his father when he got back! He would be so proud! 

Charles fell asleep watching the Bug tap against the jar, resting peacefully with thoughts of his father and the elusive and colorful bugs. 

He did not know how long he slept, but the sun was barely rising when he did. The glow of his jar was weak, and the Lightning Bug was resting on the bottom – that was not alright, was it? Small Charles rose up, shifting in his bed and grabbing the Jar from the table. 

He peered inside the jar, squinting in the minimal light. 

That's when he realized that the bug he captured was not a bug at all. The small figure sat with its legs pulled to its chest, blue wings drooped and barely glowing. These – these he had read about. His mother told him he was silly for thinking they were real! There were not real… right? He rubbed his eye with his free hand and squinted at the glass again. 

The image before him didn't change, except that cold black eyes were staring at him bitterly. A small snarl was on the small creature's face, showing it's sharp teeth. He gave a small sound of surprise – the creature looked so weak though. It's skin was an ashen grey instead of the intense glow that it held just hours ago. 

It looked sick… 

In a brief moment of panic, he jostled the jar to get out of bed. With a harsh click, the creature – a Faerie as he recognized from the stories his father had told him. He winced at the click and held the jar steadily. He could hear the cook in the kitchen from his room and there was no doubt the housekeeper was awake. 

He had to be quiet. 

Charles snuck through the house. He would not be able to go through the kitchen – the Cook would probably be angry that he had destroyed the kitchen in such a manner. He probably should have cleaned that back up… He needed to get to the front door of the manor and go around the side of the house. It was still dark out, so he would be a bit easier. 

He walked along the corridor with bated breath and made his way to the front door. He could hear the housekeeper some distance away – probably in the Parlor where he heard his mother's god-awful cackles the night before as she gossiped rudely about her neighbors. 

He managed to make it to the front door unnoticed. He opened the door softly, and closed the door behind him. He trekked along the side of the house, making his way to the back yard. The lights were no longer present. He had to let the faerie go soon. The glow had faded more on his journey and the small creature was gripping the sides of the glass in an attempt to support itself. 

"You'll be home soon, Little Faerie…" he spoke softly. 

He ducked into the open space and made his way to the center of the yard. He stopped hear, sitting down in the still-moist grass. He gave a soft sigh – he would no longer be able to show his father the lighting bug he caught – but the faerie was not a lightning bug. He twisted the cap off, knowing it was for the best – the creature could have a family somewhere. He missed his Father – surely this creature's family would miss it. 

His heart ached though, and tears gathered at his eyes. He did not want to let it go. Charles gave a small shaky sigh and pulled the top off. The faerie fluttered it's wings, trying to make its way up the jar in its weakened state. It struggled for a moment before falling back into the glass. 

"Here, I'll help," he murmured. He reached into the glass to aid his accidental captive, only to jerk his hand back with pain. It had bit him! The tears that had slightly gathered at his eyes fell now, but for a different reason. He pulled the pained appendage to his mouth, sucking on the bleeding bite. 

He tried to hold back the tears – boys don't cry! He took a moment to stop the tears and tried again. The creature bit him once again, but he bit his lip to ignore the small bite of the sharp-toothed fae. Once he finally pulled the blue-winged creature from the jar, he set her down gently on the ground. The creature released him as soon as it felt soft soil against its graying skin. 

The faerie scrambled up, fluttering its wings softly. It looked up at the child that had captured it in the first place and stepped back, nearly stumbling over its wings. Suddenly, it turned and ran, leaving the crying child alone in the middle of the field. 

Charles sat and stared after the faerie. He sighed and the tears tracked down his face. He sat there until the sun had peaked over the horizon, and then sat a little longer. He resolved himself as the moisture disappeared from the grass and made his way back inside through the back door. The cook only gave him a glace as he walked by, not angry at all. 

He made his way back to his room and curled up on his bed, suddenly feeling more lonely than he had ever been.


End file.
